consummation
by jane hidell
Summary: Okay, Chapter 3's finally done, and we're in Rrated territory now, folks.
1. circadian rhythms

This story picks up pretty soon after "validation." As it deals with the next stage of Kate and John's relationship, I thought a new story would be appropriate. They're still not my characters, I just do with them what I will. J

**consummation******

prologue : circadian rhythms

Kate would have never believed that she would miss routine. At one time in her life she had longed for it; life as an army brat had stressed her out, and when they had finally settled in the L.A. area she had welcomed the consistency. But, as human beings will do, she eventually became sick of the sameness and longed for adventure.

And boy had she found it.

            She and John tried to pass the time just grateful to be alive, but—that bothersome humanity again—they were often incredibly bored.  Their increasing attraction to each other, and the foreknowledge that they were _supposed_ to be attracted to each other, was making things increasingly awkward.  It was too lonely to spend much time alone, but together the combined weight of their future roles and present situation made them tired and not often up for light conversation.

            John knew they were being stupid, that his mother's words still rung true for them—every moment _was_ a gift, and all too soon their lives would become far too complicated for quiet reflection or private time.

            But knowing these things and expressing them aloud to Kate were two wholly different ideas.

            He watched Kate closely as they struggled to keep a day-and-night cycle (no easy feat without a clock), unaware that she was watching him just as closely. Someone would have to say something, make some sort of move, at some point, but there were too many issues in the way.

            Sometimes when Kate would laugh at something he said, or tuck her hair behind her ear, or blink a certain way, he would _almost_ say something.

            Sometimes when John would smile at her, or run his hand through his hair, or breathe a certain way, she would _almost_ say something.

            . . .How fair was it to have the eyes of the future upon you when pretty much all you were trying to do was ask someone to go steady?


	2. all that we've left behind

This chapter sort of absorbs and expands upon the idea in an earlier story of mine, "kate's list." I thought it was appropriate for the situation at hand.

chapter 1: all that we've left behind

            Kate and John sat cross-legged on the floor, facing each other.  A fresh notebook lay between them, open to the first page. They both held pens.

            "Thanks for humoring me on this," Kate said, tapping her pen against her foot.  "I just thought . . ."

            "It's a good idea," John reassured her.

            "And it's something to do," Kate added, and they both smiled.  Their strained attempts at entertainment had been something of a sad running joke for the past couple of weeks.

            "You want to start?" John asked, picking up the notebook.

            "Okay." Kate took a deep breath.  "When I was a little girl I was addicted to Sweettarts. I would separate them by flavor, and then eat one flavor at a time. My favorite flavor was cherry, so I would save those for last. . . . I was an extremely hyper child."

            John smiled at the thought of Kate as a happy little girl and wrote down "Sweet Tarts," not really having any idea what they were.

            "And . . . oh, remember My Little Ponies?" she excitedly asked John, who of course didn't. "I had so many of those. I had my horse phase, like all girls, and not only were they horses - - come on, they were pastel colored and stuff! They were great!"

            John wrote "My Little Ponies," starting to feel a little left out.

            "My friends and I would take all of our ponies to one friend's house and just play for hours," Kate said rather wistfully, imagining herself back in her best friend's basement.  She suddenly remembered that all of those girls were now dead, and the dangers of making this list became jarringly apparent.

            The idea of compiling a list of things past had occurred to Kate one day when she couldn't stop thinking about the world they had lost.  She had thought it would be a therapeutic way to remember certain things, as well as a nice way to keep from forgetting other things.  And it might be nice to share the list with their children one day . . . . But she was already getting emotional.  Still, she did think it was a good idea, and she wanted to see it through.

            "Your turn," Kate said hastily, taking the notebook from him.

            "Um . . ." John stalled, thinking as hard as he could.  He hadn't had candy or toys as a child, or friends.  He hadn't had anything but guns and his mother.  The guys that occasionally flitted in and out of their lives didn't count, and though he had been friendly with the Salcedas he didn't really miss them.  He didn't feel himself missing anything or anyone that he hadn't already lost long ago.

            His thinking turned desperate when he saw Kate's chin begin to tremble.  All of this had come so natural to him, and he didn't think he was doing a very good job helping Kate adjust.  "Video games!" he suddenly blurted out. "When Mom was in Pescadero, I loved spending weekends at the arcade in the mall."

            He was proud of himself for having thought of something, but even as Kate wrote "videogames" she was clearly distraught.

            "Maybe this is a bad idea, John," she said softly. "Maybe it's shallow to miss things, objects, especially when so many people have . . . "

            "No, Kate, no," he interjected, grabbing her hand. "Things help define our lives, along with the people in them. You're not just missing 'things,' you're remembering the world, and the memories of the people you were with when you used them . . . . Like your friends and those - - horses." Kate looked up at him, her eyes watery. "And I want to hear about your life. This seems like a nice way to do it."

"But you, John, you didn't have those things . . . . You've led such an important life, and here I am reminiscing about plastic horses." She squeezed his hand. "I just don't know if I can prove my worth in this, if my life can ever be as important as yours."

            Looking into her eyes, so full of worry and self-consciousness, he had a sudden flashback.  "A green t-shirt," he said.

            Kate's brow furrowed. "What?"  
            He frowned, straining to bring the past into focus.  "A light green t-shirt with a . . . horse on it?"

            Realizing what he was describing, she smiled.  "I did have this green shirt with a dark green sparkly unicorn on it. It was my favorite shirt all through junior high." 

            "You were wearing it that night . . . . I remember."

She put a hand to her mouth in wonder. "You do?"

            "Yeah. You had worn it to school that day, and it set off your hair so beautifully. . . . I think that was, honestly, the first time in my life I had ever thought of anyone, or anything, as being beautiful."

            Kate could hardly speak.  Her memories of that night were sketchy at best, but images were coming to her mind too.  "You had on that damned Public Enemy shirt. Part of me was like, 'We get the bad boy thing already,' and the rest of me was like, 'Ooo.'"

            They laughed, still holding hands.

            "I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember not taking my eyes off of yours. And if I'm not mistaken . . . _you_ kissed _me_?"

            Kate blushed, looking down at the notebook.  "So um, should I add . . .?"

            "Definitely."

            Kate wrote "green sparkly unicorn shirts," smiling to herself like a thirteen-year-old girl.


	3. in my handwriting

_I can't even get tabs to work this time and I'm tired, so I'm just posting it like this for now. :P_

**chapter 2**. in my handwriting

John couldn't stop glancing up as he wrote. Kate was lounging on one of the cushier couches, trying to get into Steinbeck. Occasionally her eyes glazed over, but his were pretty much the only books in the shelter she hadn't read, and she was bored.

Scribbling furiously, John was trying to write so fast that he wouldn't be able to reconsider what he was writing. He had grown tired of the close-but-so-far-awayness between himself and Kate, and time was too short to keep dithering around. The only times his head completely cleared were when he and Kate touched, and they did touch; they always sat close together, fell asleep on each other's shoulders, threw their arms around each other in bed. But there was still that unspoken territory that John wanted to conquer.

All he wanted to do was hold Kate close, bury his face in her hair, tell her he loved her. And if she felt the same about him -- if, as he fantasized, she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in him -- well wasn't it stupid to keep on like this? He had to say something!

But even the great John Connor held within himself a pocket of cowardice, and so he was writing a letter.

-----

Kate opened her eyes, blinking sleepily. She had apparently fallen asleep again; the partially-read copy of _East of Eden_ was splayed on the floor, and her mouth tasted like cotton.

She sat up and stretched, trying to undo the kinks. The couches weren't all that uncomfortable, but they weren�t made for sleeping.

She was just about to get up and go get some water when something on the coffee table caught her eye.

It was a folded piece of paper.

With her name on it.

Kate gingerly picked up the paper, frowning slightly. She gazed around the large open space, but John was nowhere in sight.

Unfolding the paper, she began to read. . .

_ Date: unknown  
Time: unknown_

_ Kate,_

_ There are so many things I want to say to you but I can't, so, _

_ all I can do is put them in a letter. Please read the whole letter  
before finding me - if you want to find me after youve read this._

_First things first I love you. I can't stop looking at you even when  
I'm writing this. I dont love you because "your here" or  
because its fate but just because._

_ My whole life i knew I was going to become a great leader  
but i never understood why. Its not like I feel some  
great kenship with people or anything._

_ I understand now Kate. I would destroy a terminator with my  
bare hands to keep you safe. All I want to do is hold you  
and if fighting means Ill be able to keep doing that then i  
will fight._

_ Im sorry if the letter isnt too good. You know that time we  
spent together in jr high? That was all the official education  
I got._

_ But Im smart really I am, trust me. :)  
_

_ I think im alot better when I talk but like I said I dont  
have the guts to say this outloud._

_ Youve fallen asleep. I could just sit here and stare at  
you but I realy should give you this letter. If you want  
to find me ill be in the dining room._

_ John_

John had drawn a smiley face after asking her to trust him, and Kate stared at it through her tears. She carefully folded the note, tucked it in her notebook, and tore out a sheet of fresh paper.

----

John was fiddling with a can of corn, reading its ingredients for the fifteenth time, when she came into the room. Her face was tearstreaked but serene, and she held a piece of paper. At first he thought it was his letter, but after she handed it to him he looked down and saw his name. She gave him a little smile and left.

Trembling a little, he opened the note.

_ John,_

_ Your letter was the most beautiful thing I've ever read.  
Don't apologize for your grammar. You're the  
bravest man I've ever met, and you've got smarts  
where it counts. :)_

_ I love you too John, and not just because we've been  
thrown together. I believe in fate now, and I suppose  
we are destined to be. But I love you for you, and I'm  
proud to be here with you. I'll fight for the honor  
of being held by you._

_ Okay this is getting schmaltzy :), so meet me  
in the bedroom when you're done reading._

_ Love,_

_ Kate XXOO_

John froze, dizzy with the both idea of Kate loving him and the idea of Kate waiting for him in the bedroom. Surely she didn't . . . mean . . .

Plus he didn't know what "schmaltzy" meant, which made him feel kind of stupid. But it's not like he didn't know Kate was the smart one, and besides, it was good for one of them to have book smarts. He knew his share of what would come in handy later.

He stared at the letter for several minutes, his eyes drawn to the "I love you"s. Then they would drift to the word "bedroom." His entire torso was full of butterflies, and he had to close his eyes to keep from passing out.


	4. words are very unnecessary

Okay so here's the big R-rated chapter. It took so long because I really, really didn't want it to be cheesy - but love scenes are kind of inherently cheesy, so I did my best. And I need a cold shower. XD

consummation  
chapter three  
words are very unnecessary

Dizziness and heart palpitations didn't stop John as he walked out of the dining area towards the bedroom. This mutual admission of love was what he had been wanting so badly for months, and now that it was here. . . He kept reading Kate's words over in his mind - _I love you too John _- and he feared that actually hearing them might make him faint.

He paused in an attempt to compose himself. This wasn't very heroic behavior, he scolded himself. But he had never been in love, and as far as he knew no one had been in love with him. And his mother never talked about love or anything like it, from, he figured, a desire to suppress her own experiences and the belief that it just wasn't that important to their mission.

So here he was, a blithering mess of emotions and hormones. He took a deep breath and, throwing caution to the wind, entered the bedroom.

Kate was propped up against some pillows, writing in a new notebook. She didn't look up as he walked to the other side of the bed and sat down.

He was trying unsuccessfully to find some words as she put the notebook away, still not looking at him. "Kate, I . . ."

"John," she interrupted him. He turned to look at her; she was sitting on her haunches not a foot away from him, smiling, her hair in her face, her eyes shining. "I love you," she told him in a tone of voice that said _That says it all._

He managed to swallow. "I love you, too," he replied, breathless. They were the most sincere words he had ever spoken.

John would have said more, but Kate leaned in and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him. He held her tightly, and as she pushed him back onto the bed he became incredibly dizzy again. He'd only done this a couple of times, back with one of Salceda's daughters who just liked to have fun. And that was a long time ago, and --

Kate was now straddling him, and as he fretted she backed away from kissing him and looked into his eyes, and the love and trust he saw there made all self-consciousness leave him.

He reached up and held her face in his hands, overwhelmed. He felt drunk, this didn't feel real - but Kate kissed him again, and it _was _real, all too wonderfully so.

They managed to disrobe each other almost without stopping the kiss, but when she lowered herself onto him he couldn't help but gasp, and she took the opportunity to start kissing his neck. He hadn't quite caught his breath again when she worked his way back to his mouth, but that was okay. If he were to suffocate, at least he would die happy.

She started to move, slowly, but he didn't want to go there yet, he wanted to stay like this, just the two of them together.

Kate made a small sound of surprise as he sat up, but quickly adjusted and wrapped her legs around him. They held onto each other as he kissed her neck, working his way down her chest. Her breathing was speeding up, and she clearly wanted to step up the action now. He released his grip on her, allowing her space to move, which she began to do.

Her eyes were closed, and John just watched her face, literally high on her beauty. There was one trick he knew; it wasn't a fancy one, but her eyes flew open when he reached down and used it. She bucked up, moaning a little, and he held his breath as she came. She was just too beautiful, too smart, too _perfect _to be his.

But she was, and as her body continued shaking he laid her down on the bed. She wrapped her legs around him and ran his hands through his hair as they kissed. They moved together like that, still kissing until it was his turn and he buried his face in her neck, muffling his cry.

They gazed at each other, panting, and Kate reached up and held his face as he had held hers.

He lay down next to her, not even self-conscious about his nakedness, and wrapped an arm around her waist. He wanted so badly to say in words what he felt in his heart, but as if she sensed what he was thinking, she gave him a kiss and turned onto her side, nestling against him and holding onto the arm that remained wrapped around her waist.

John put his other arm under her head for it to rest on, and soon he felt her body relax against him as she fell asleep. He gently laid his own head against hers, breathing in the scent of her hair. It smelled of sweat and government-issue shampoo, and it was the most beautiful scent in the world.


End file.
